


And No One Says I Love You

by Merelymine



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-31
Updated: 2010-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:24:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merelymine/pseuds/Merelymine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim does a lot of thinking, and some remembering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And No One Says I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the timestamp meme I did at my livejournal. The request was for a sequel to Bruises and Body Armor, three years later.

They should've been doomed from the start.

The fact that Zachary Zatara doesn't absolutely _hate_ him by now is something of a miracle.  He disappears for an entire _year_ to look for Bruce, and once he finds him, once he brings him back home, he still can't stay in one place.  It’s been three years, and between school and ‘work’ he disappears for weeks, sometimes _months_ at a time, and it's not like Zach doesn't have his own life, it's just--

They've never talked about it.

They're not--

They've never _dated._

Tim would hesitate to even call Zach one of his good friends, most days, as opposed to someone he knows well enough to be comfortable with.  Or, rather, someone who knows _him_ well enough to make the time they spend together a certain sort of easy that civilians, or even the majority of the caped community, can't.

Of course he could just be kidding himself.  There's no real reason, except for his tendency towards distancing himself, to not call Zach a friend.  After everything they've been through together, and considering...

Considering all the things they’ve done.

All the ways they’ve seen each other.

He can remember a hotel room in New York, barely a year after that first time…

_Tim is exhausted, tired and dirty, when someone knocks on his door._

_Zatara is drunk and disheveled, his bowtie gone, the first three buttons of his shirt undone.  When he kisses Tim he tastes like liquor, sharp and citrusy, clutching Tim’s arms with desperate fingers._

_It’s something Tim can understand.  They haven’t spoken in  twelve months, and he doesn’t know why Zatara is here, but he finds that he doesn’t much care._

_Tim doesn’t think about ‘why’, just pushes the door closed and thinks that it’s been so long since he’s been touched.  That the last person to touch him like this was Zatara, and somehow that seems right, unquestionable._

_He is more than a little surprised to wake up the next morning and find that he’s not alone._

_It’s not a bad feeling._

 

Zach is sprawled out across Tim’s bare chest, ear pressed over his heart.  His dark hair moves gently with every breath Tim takes.  They are sweaty and dirty, skin sticking together anywhere they touch, all the way from their feet, tangled together in the hotel sheets, up to where Zach's face is resting against Tim's chest.  Tim's arm is curled across his back, teasing little patterns across the pale skin with his fingers.

Tim’s not exactly sure when ‘Zatara’ became ‘Zach’, but he figures it happened somewhere between the third and fourth time.  Not that Tim is counting, or anything.

 

_Zatara’s on his knees on the floor, his hands holding Tim’s hips still.  Tim’s hands are tied behind his back, bound by a magical rope that is also twisted around his ankles, keeping him spread out and kneeling on the bed.  He couldn’t move if he wanted to.  _

_He doesn’t really want to._

_There are marks on his neck and all the way down his chest.  Zatara took his time with teeth and nails to make him squirm, to make him moan and writhe for more.  It’s not something he ever really knew he wanted, to be held down like this, to be marked and taken and hurt until he’s begging for it, until the first touch of Zatara’s mouth on his cock feels like the best sort of shock._

_“Zach,” he moans, without even realizing.  The moan turns wordless, choked off, when Zatara hums around him, absolutely and undoubtedly pleased._

_“Zach,” he repeats, saying it over and over again as Zatara takes him in, swallows him down. _

 

Zach smiles at the touch.  Tim can't really see it, but he can feel the shape of it against his skin.  He drags his fingertips, light and tickling, up Zach's spine, making him shiver and shift against him, humming contentedly.

Zach presses a kiss over Tim’s heart, making it stutter and skip inside of his chest.  Tim realizes, with sudden, vicious clarity, that these few and fleeting moments are the only times he ever truly feels content, anymore.

Something close to happy.

Because it’s not always rough.  They aren’t always drunk, and it’s not always just a quick and easy way to burn off some steam.

Sometimes, like tonight, it seems like a lot more than that, like they aren’t just screwing around. 

 

_Tim shows up unannounced at the hotel Zach is staying at while his show is in New York.  He is only Tim Drake, t-shirt and jeans, and he brings pizza with him, which they eat sitting cross-legged on the bed.  When they’re done Tim takes the box and sets it on the table, and then goes to wash his hands in the bathroom.  Zach walks up behind him, wrapping his arms around Tim’s chest and hooking his chin over Tim’s shoulder.  His eyes are dark as he watches their reflection in the mirror._

_When Tim is finished he dries his hands.  Turns around in the circle of Zach’s arms and pushes him against the wall and kisses him.  He tastes like pizza, like the sugary buzz of soda and magic.  Zach goes willingly, arching under Tim’s hands and kissing him slow.  Deep._

_Tim thinks about blowing him right there, sinking to the floor in the bathroom on his knees, but changes his mind when Zach pushes a hand up and under his shirt, blunt nails lightly scratching over his skin._

_Instead he drags him to the bed, shedding clothes as they go.  He pushes Zach down and crawls over him, bare chest to bare chest, tangling their legs together and kissing him again.  Zach moans into Tim’s mouth, pushing up against him, angling his hips to bring them groin to groin._

_Tim doesn’t want to tease, but he doesn’t want to rush it either, so he takes his time preparing Zach, opening him up until he’s slick and begging for it._

_Tim fucks him slow and steady, until his thighs are burning and Zach is swearing under him, begging and cursing him in the same breath.  Then he rolls them over so that Zach is riding him, leaning back against the v that Tim’s thighs make when he bends his legs and plants his feet.  The rhythm is jagged and wonderful, and Tim holds onto Zach’s hips as Zach digs his blunt fingernails into Tim’s thighs._

_Zach comes screaming, swearing and chanting Tim’s name over and over, painting Tim’s chest slick and hot.  The sight is enough to send Tim over the edge, and he holds Zach still as he thrusts up those last few times._

_Zach kisses his face as Tim breathes through the orgasm, and then slides off of him, boneless and pressing his face against Tim’s chest._

"Timothy, stop thinking so hard.  You're ruining the moment."__

Tim tries to think of something to say, some sharp retort to move things along, but the words get stuck in his throat when Zach looks up at him, pushing himself up with a hand in the middle of Tim’s chest.  His hair is falling in his eyes and he’s flushed, an amused little smirk tugging at his mouth. 

“What is it?” he asks when he sees Tim’s face.

Tim brushes the hair off of Zach’s forehead, tangling his fingers in the thick strands.  Zach arches into the touch like a cat, eyes falling half-closed and languid.  “Why are you still here?” Tim asks, and the catch and pull of emotion in his voice is something he can’t control.

Zach’s eyes open wide, and Tim knows that he can hear it too, but he still goes for the joke.  “Well, there’s something called ‘the afterglow’, I don’t know if you’ve heard of it or not.  I’m enjoying it before I have to eventually put my pants back on.”

It is, completely and unequivocally, an invitation to take the easy way out.  Zach knows how he is, that he doesn’t really know how to talk about things like this, and normally it’s the sort of opportunity that Tim would take.  But not right now.  “No, why are you still here.  With _me?”_

“I really think you need to look in the mirror sometime, if you need to ask me that—“

Tim can feel his face twist up in annoyance.  “So that’s it?  It’s just a physical thing?”

And now Zach is looking at him like he just grew two heads.  “Timothy, darling, are you having some sort of crisis?”

“I want the real answer, Zach.”

Zach flops onto his back, shoulder to shoulder with Tim against the bed.  A few moments pass before he speaks.  “When you left three years ago I was terrified that I would never see you again.  And I was angry about that for a really long time.  But when I realized you were back, that Bruce was back and that you hadn’t completely gone off of the deep end, I promised myself that I would do whatever it took to stay in your life.”

And that—that is a lot more than he expected.  The shock of it curls up warm and knotted, low in his gut.  “Is that why you showed up drunk the first time?”

“Mmm.  Liquid courage, right?  It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“It worked,” Tim says.  He falls silent, thinking.  “You know this is pretty fucked up, right?”

Zach smiles, staring up at the ceiling.  “Yeah.  It seems to come with the job as far as I can tell.”

Tim grabs his hand, lacing their fingers together.  “You know that I, uh…” he trails off, unable to actually _say_ it.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Timothy.”  Zach says.  It’s all sharp edges and sarcasm, but he smiles and squeezes Tim’s fingers.  “Yeah, I know.  And so do I, for the record.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @ [merelymine](http://merelymine.tumblr.com)


End file.
